The Photograph
by Raven of the Shadows
Summary: Lucius is suffering from some muggle disease Draco doesn't know the name of - just that it is making the elder Malfoy lose his memory. The younger man can't decide if or not he wants to visit Lucius when help comes from an unexpected source.


**The Photograph**

As he had been doing for the past one month, Draco flooed to the lobby of St. Mungos and sank into one of the chairs in the waiting area. The receptionist, who had acknowledged him the first few days, ignored him, though some people shot curious glances in his direction. Not paying them the slightest attention, Draco placed his elbows on his knees and rested his hand in his hands, trying to steel himself to go visit the one man he hated beyond anything. To visit the man he had once admired, respected, loved even, above all. To visit Lucius Malfoy, who, after spending his sentence at Azkaban, had come back with some muggle illness the name of which Draco didn't try to remember. But he knew this much — it had affected Lucius' memory. The elder Malfoy had lost his ability to remember anything for a long time, and now, his past memories were slipping away, too.

Draco didn't know if he wanted to go in and find that that man didn't even remember him, or he didn't want to see his man at all. This confusion, this whole situation was, and had been, for the past month, gnawing at something deep inside him. He was Draco Malfoy, who always knew what he wanted. Even when his perfect mirage of a world had been shattered under the shadows of the dark, he had emerged as strong a being as ever. Now, he didn't know what to do, what he wanted to do, and it was eating him alive.

So he simply sat with his head down, trying to swim away from the whirlwind of thoughts that was attempting to drown him. But today, he didn't even have the luck to retain his hold on this silent place made out of shadows that he willed himself into, everyday. Someone was tapping at his shoulder. He tried to ignore the tapping, but the other person was stubborn, too. Sighing, Draco raised his head to snap at the intruder in his silence, only to find himself staring into the green eyes of his old nemesis. The power to be irritable deserted him, leaving an empty void inside. Draco closed his eyes. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Just got rid of the healers who were hell-bent on keeping me tied to that hospital bed," Potter replied. "Anyways, I had received a letter from Albus yesterday. I saw you here. Thought you might want to see this."

Feeling thankful that Potter hadn't brought Lucius up — pity was the last thing he wanted — Draco opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at the other man who had now settled in the chair beside him.

Potter shot him a grin and brought an envelope out of his pocket. "Dennis — you know, Collin Creevy's younger brother — was experimenting on these cameras which can record sound along with the moving pictures. He gave one of them to Al," Potter said, shoving the envelope in Draco's hand. "So, don't be surprised."

Feeling slightly curious, the blond opened the envelope and pulled a picture out. He turned the picture, only to stare at his own younger self — no, it was his son Scorpius looking remarkably like him, scowling at the camera. Then, the blond boy in the picture opened his mouth, saying, "You wait, Albus Severus Potter. My father will hear about this!" By his side, the elder Potter was guffawing, but Draco couldn't take his eyes off the moving picture, in which his son repeated those words over and over. How many times had he said those same words, thinking his father was above all. That his father would sort everything out.

Potter stood up, clapped him on his shoulder, and said, "Keep that one." With a last grin and a wave, Harry Potter was gone. But Draco's eyes never left that picture in his hands.

Finally, after who knows how many hours had passed, Draco got a grip on himself. Flipping the picture over to block out the sound, he stood up. He didn't know how his legs knew the way, but a couple of minutes later, he was standing in front of the room the elder Malfoy was staying in, his hand raised to knock the door when it opened. A healer stepped out, tried to give him a smile which looked more like a grimace, and walked away without a word.

Without another pause, Draco stepped into the room. He took in the form of the man who lay in the bed. The man he could barely recognise.

And by the look he was receiving, apparently he hadn't been recognised, either. Draco closed the distance to the bed. "Father?" he said, his voice breaking. He didn't get a response.

He willed himself not to cry but a traitor tear fell down his cheek. The grip on whatever he was holding loosened as the hand came up to wipe the tear off. The thing which had fallen from his hand floated in the slight breeze coming from the window and fell down near the bed, both pairs of grey eyes in the room following its movement. From the picture, the voice of a young boy rang out, breaking the serene silence of the room. "— Potter. My father will hear about this."

The sunken-in face of the elder Malfoy rose, the lank hair framing it swaying in the breeze. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then, he breathed out a single word the other man wasn't sure he hadn't imagined.

"Draco?"

* * *

 **Word Count:** 925

 **Prompts Used:**

From Hogwarts Assignment #6

• A Study of Magical Objects — Write about a character who has a terrible long-term memory


End file.
